I asked Napoleon if I could make a story in his,Khopesh's, Oreo's, and errr, Hikiro Takayama yet unamed post apoc America. I got the go- ahead, and since I'm not an alliance member, it goes in a separate thread, enjoy:

The burly man picked the gritty, concrete rubble that had been San Francisco. He knew it was a dangerous business, since the Japs had taken the west coast, patrols of the tan coated mooks were everywhere, making sure no one was scavenging supplies that would improve their lives.

Apparently, the Japanese weren’t here, which eased the scavenger a little bit. With this more positive mindset, he kept digging, knowing his find wouldn’t be too valuable, as the Japanese always had men near the places like red cross buildings and fallout shelters. They made sure everyone was a living skeleton, totally dependant on the Japs, even needing a permit to farm on “Japanese” land.

Eventually, he got through the rubble, and was very pleased with his small find, four cans of beans, a cartridge box chock full of the rare .44 ball rounds he needed for his no. 2 Dragoon pistol, and a heated blanket. “Jethro” he told himself “you’ve hit the jackpot”! The beans would feed him for four whole days, the bullets, which were almost impossible to find, would come in handy, and the electric blanket would fetch a pretty price from an Arizona bound trader. Jethro let a genuine grin escape.

“Lucky find, dog?” a harsh voice questioned from behind. The grin on Jethro’s face disappeared as fast as it appeared. Jethro spun around to see a Japanese lieutenant, SNLF at that.

“Why, yes my good friend. Care for a smoke?” Jethro said mockingly as he held out a cigarette.

The paratrooper was not amused, he drew his katana and sliced the cigarette in two, watching it roll to the ground and said “slaves have no business insulting their masters”.

“You may be a master, but sure as Hades I ain’t no slave”! By this point, Jethro was teeming with anger. He loose an uppercut that connected with the Jap’s nose, quite literally beating the snot out of the SNLF lieutenant.

“You shall pay for dis, you insoldent andimal!” screamed the paratrooper, his words quite disrupted by his nose, which he was attempting to bandage with a silk handkerchief he had procured.

“No” muttered Jethro, disgustedly “You will, Dog”. Before the bleeding Jap could utter another word, Jethro whipped his old Colt no.2 out of his leather jacket and shot the Jap in the left eye.

“Nice sword, buddy” Jethro whispered to the corpse, taking the katana from it’s deceased owner. Swords were rare, trade items, very popular Miwok Indians. Of course, there’s a chance that the Miwok you sell that sword to kills you in an ambush the next day, but that’s a chance that’s worth the profit it would bring.

His work done, Jethro made his way back to his beaten, Harley-Davidson, loot in hand. Gunning the motor, Jethro headed Northeast, in the direction of Reno.

*********A few days later, in Reno, Nevada*************

Jethro pulled up into the shanty-town called Reno, Nevada. Reno was built from scrap metal, on the ruins of once glorious hotels and casinos the Japs had bombed decades ago. However, as the years passed, Imperial Japan had left Reno, and people began to repopulate it.

Small, beady eyed children dressed in flour sacks stared at the massive scavenger. He chuckled and tossed one of the cans he had found their way before he continued cycling through the desolate town. On his way to the center of town, Jethro could hear cries of loss. The loss of a gambler, down on his luck. The loss of a mother, her child found dead. All theses cries made him more determined to get where he was going.

Eventually, Jethro reached a cluster of tents on the other side of town. Traders were all about the camp, playing games like blackjack, running to their calling wives, and hawking their wares to curios visitors. Jethro made his way over to an old, green, army tent and yelled in “Yo, Danny, ya in there?”.

A short fat man, who was obviously Scottish in descent peeped out. “Where are your manners, laddy?” he piped up, not amused.

“Well my good friend, that depends, are you headed for Arizona, or perhaps another region where the nights are most chilling?”

“Of course, cain’t conduct me own business, with the Japs all over the bloody place. Arizona’s relatively free, Tuscon’s where I be headin’”

“Then I’m most certain I may interest you in this fine electric blanket, and unused too”

The trader’s face lit up with delight. “Ow much do ye want fer that fine article?”

Jethro replied, “well, I could use about ten cans of soup and four canteens.”

“Are ye mad, laddy, that heated blanket will fetch me a pretty penny, but I’ve only 27 cans o’ soup, and they’d be quite valuable. The canteens on the other hand, are quite easy ta come across, make it seven cans o’ soup and six canteens, and ye’ll ave’ a done deal.”

“You win this time Danny, your still as charismatic as 13 years ago” said Jethro, in mock defeat. The two men exchanged articles, Jethro filled his canteens, and the friends repacked their supplies.

“Jethro” Danny casually said “I’m just as charismatic, but my eyes ain’t as keen as they once were, If I were ta pay ya, would ye serve as guard fer the caravan?”

“Sure Danny, but I can’t go as far as Tuscon, it’s still prime scavenging season, I can take you as far as Vegas.”

_________________Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good-Rom12:21

I'm just trying to love God, people, and life. We're all people, what else matters?

Nevada had been wiped out, nothing was left from Carson city to Tonopah, and those two cities had been completely destroyed, as if they had never been there. The Japanese carpet bombing had been extremely thorough, as far as Jethro knew, Carson City was about as real as El Dorado. But he didn’t care, right now, his only concern was getting the long line of wagons and pack animals through the badlands safely.

“Well, we should be to Las Vegas in a few days” Jethro let out, looking across the wastes with his binoculars from his motorcycle. “Although that won’t matter if we die in this Hades hole, I head talk that the savages have taken to prowling this area lately.”

“Well Laddy, ain’t that why we hired ya?” piped up Danny, trying to take control of his horse. “We sure didn’t bring ya along teh yap about dyin’.”

“Well, Danny, I’m just saying that there’s a chance.”

At the front of the caravan, a trader called out “SAVAGES, GET THE WOMEN AND CHILDREN HIDDEN, THE SAVAGESARE COMING”

Jethro pulled out his binoculars and looked again, all he could see was a dust-cloud, it could have been a storm, but loud chants could be heard in the distance. The savages were there, and they were looking for a fight.

A gunshot rang across the expanse, and a trader dropped dead. Another shot, another trader bit the dust. Several more traders fell to gunshots, until the ambushers quit firing and charged forward.

The traders returned fire, dropping quite a few of the cold blooded killers, but not enough to make it easy when they got in close. Danny and the other traders went for their swords, but Jethro didn’t carry a sword. He drew his old dragoon pistol from his leather jacket, and time seemed to slow down. Every second was a year to Jethro. Slowly, Jethro took a bead. BANG! A savage dropped dead. BANG! Another one kicked that proverbial bucket. BANG! The last of the raider dropped dead.

“Ow did ye do that so fast, laddy?” inquired a bloodstained, dusty, and tired Danny.

“What do you mean fast, that took years!”

“More like five seconds, me laddy.”

“You’re pretty old Danny, I’d tell you to ask God in a few years, but God won’t be there to answer questions where you’re probably going.”

“Hey, tain’t fair ta go there”

I actually wrote that little bit about time slowing down in slo-mo.

_________________Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good-Rom12:21

I'm just trying to love God, people, and life. We're all people, what else matters?

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